Office Moves!
by Mahala
Summary: This one shot is part of the Fanfic Guys v. Girls – the Prank Challenge set by Smuffly.


This one shot is part of the Fanfic **Guys v. Girls – the Prank Challenge** set by **Smuffly**

in the CSI Forum. Instructions are to pick one male character and one female character - they don't have to be the regulars. You can also use minor characters if you wish to do so, and other people may be involved in the story. Write a one-shot fic involving a prank, or a series of pranks - no word limit. Smuffly is keeping score in the forum. (Each successful prank = 1 point.)

Author Notes:

As I am feeling a little nostalgic, I've decided to set this fic between Seasons 1 and 2.

And Smuffly I hope this counts as a prank.

Oh and I love anagrams – can I play too?

As it was pointed out to me that I missed out a duo from the Detective and the Rose, I have included them here. ;-)

* * *

.

Don Flack shuffled irritably as he waited for the two young CSI's crouched over the bodies to determine the exact chain of events. To be honest he really couldn't have cared less who had shot who first. The sergeant first on scene had already identified one of the victims as a well-known trouble-maker whose second home was Sing Sing and he strongly suspected that the other one would turn out to have a case file as long as his arm too.

"It could have been simultaneous. Pow. Pow." Danny pushed his glasses up his nose as Aiden Burn threw him a despairing look.

"Yeah, well I'd like to hear you put that one past Mac," she drawled, her nasal twang announcing her to be a local girl. "Speak of the devil ..." She tipped her head towards the other end of the alley where Mac was lifting the crime scene tape for Stella to duck under. "The mood he's in the moment, I'd try for something a little more scientific than 'Pow Pow'."

"What's up?" asked Flack folding his arms. "Big Boss in a bad mood?" He glanced towards Mac and Stella as they strode towards them their heads bent in earnest discussion.

"Nah, not really. It's just that Sinclair has been on his back over the publicity on our last case as if that has anything to do with Mac and the office move means he's snowed under with all sorts of ridiculous paperwork." Flack wrinkled his nose. He hated paperwork so he felt nothing but sympathy for the guy.

Danny nodded. "Yeah the lab is a mess. Boxes and idiotic notices everywhere." They all looked up as Mac and Stella approached, their voices echoing in the high-walled alley. Danny and Aiden stood to stretch their legs waiting to give their boss a run-down of the crime scene.

"It's that important? Can't you use two?" They could hear the frustration in Mac's voice.

"No we can't! Look we're moving offices next week and you have been putting this off for months." Mac grimaced as Stella's curls bounced irritably.

Danny rocked lightly on his heels and Flack's eyebrows drew together as they tried to work out what on earth Mac and Stella were discussing with such animation.

Mac snorted with disgust.

Stella waved a hand imperiously. "It may not seem like an issue to you but in case you haven't noticed we have two plus size ladies and Kirsty is six months pregnant. Believe it or not, size matters Mac!" she hissed.

Flack just about managed to keep his jaw in place as he risked a glance at Danny and Aiden but they looked as puzzled as he felt. Or least Danny did. It was hard to work out what Aiden was thinking.

"It's your last chance Mac or I will be forced to take action," she threatened. Stella threw him a blinding smile and they were surprised to see a tiny smile play at the edges of Mac's lips. "Oh, and speaking of Kirsty, I've booked the first floor conference room for Friday to throw her a baby shower before she goes on maternity leave." Mac looked at her suspiciously. "Don't worry. You're not expected to do anything other than whip out your wallet." She winked. Mac rolled his eyes.

Mac dumped his case, pulled out his gloves and fixed them all with a stern look. "So what have we got?".

.

The next two days were non-stop. The first snag that hit them was that the bullets in their two victims did not match the two guns in their hands, both of which had tested positive for GSR so there was a scramble to test the guns to confirm they had indeed been fired. Then they had to find the bullets which had been fired from said guns which meant a trip back to the alley. One bullet turned out to be in a dumpster, and one had disappeared into thin air which led them to believe the bullet was probably inside a third unidentified man possibly the shooter. But by the time they had worked out trajectories and discovered tire tracks they then realized that it was more likely to be in the bodywork of a car. More specifically, a dark blue Chevrolet if the the paint chipping analysis was to be believed.

Flack was right in his suspicions that both men had case files. And both files turned out to be longer than his arm. After a lot of digging and a lot of leg-work he discovered that the two men had once worked for a well-known felon called Terry Wolte.

As Flack headed for Mac's office with the information, he felt like he was running an obstacle course. There were boxes piled in the corridors. Four men in overalls were trying to manoeuvre an uncooperative conference table out of a door and down a narrow corridor. Danny could be seen waving his arms in frustration as another man in overalls tried to remove a piece of equipment from the trace lab while Sheldon Hawkes looked on in amazement his arms full of files.

Don managed to run the gauntlet and he arrived breathless in Mac's office which seemed like a haven of peace after the rest of the building. Don glanced around. To his surprise there were boxes piled against the wall in a large square which Mac had resorted to using as a pin-board as evidently someone had removed his whiteboard. There were two in-boxes facing the door, clearly marked 'Case related' and 'Other'. The case related box was empty. The 'other' box looked like a miniature version of the tower of Pisa. Mac looked up. Don felt sorry for him. He looked exhausted.

"I have something you want to hear."

Mac leaned back in his chair and waved a hand towards the visitor's chair. "As long as it doesn't involve packing tape, bubble wrap, rewiring or plumbing I'm all ears."

Don opened the folder and turned to the photograph of a large ruddy-faced man with short stiff brown hair rather like a brush. "This is Terry Wolte, well-known felon. He's into extortion, blackmail, protection rackets, illegal gambling. Your two vic's used to work for him. Rumour has it that they skimmed money from the till before handing it over to Wolte."

Mac nodded thoughtfully. "Motive!"

"Motive indeed and … you said the vic's were shot with a large calibre hand-gun?" Mac nodded. "If my guy's information is reliable, Mr Wolte's reputed weapon of choice is a Desert Eagle." Mac looked very interested.

"And do you happen to know where we can find Mr Wolte?"

This time Don nodded. "I believe that he may currently be found at his legitimate business address. He has a garage and lock-up over in Queens." Both men stood to leave. As Mac opened his drawer and pulled out a holster, there was a small tap on the door. A fussy little man in overalls stood there with a clipboard. "'Scuse me Detective Taylor?" Mac nodded. "I need your signature to take the first lot … and er … that guy over there with the glasses says we can't move that stuff till he's finished his anal-ee-sees." Mac took the proffered clipboard and scrawled a signature before handing it back.

"Detective Messer needs to complete his work before you can move that equipment." Mac explained patiently. "So I'm afraid it'll have to wait till tomorrow."

"I understand that Detective but I gotta' fill the truck, you understand. Can't go with a half-load. Efficiency and all that."

Mac nodded and pulled his gun from the drawer. "Okay, why don't you take the contents of the large cupboard in the room opposite. Just do me a favour and wrap them very carefully. Please," he added. The little man stared at him wide-eyed as Mac fitted his holster and secured his weapon. He gulped and nodded. Don looked on amused; sometimes Mac had no idea the effect he had on people. Mac grabbed his jacket. "Come on Flack. Let's go get this guy."

.

Arnold Makepiece had been in the removals business a long time and he had moved everyone and everything from movie-stars and little old ladies to firms of lawyers and high-end dress shops. His business was based on discretion and efficiency. Nothing too large, nothing too small, nothing too difficult that couldn't be moved by Makepiece and Co.

This job, however, was different. The NYPD crime lab had sensitive equipment. That he could handle. He had special crates and foam protection. They had sensitive material. That was okay too. He had lockable metal trunks, portable filing cases and seals. But what he was staring at now was something else altogether. After speaking with the Detective in charge … formidable man, he thought to himself … he had gone in search of his team manager Dempsey and that pathetic excuse of a creature he was unfortunate enough to call his nephew. For the millionth time Arnold Makepiece wondered what on earth had possessed his sister to run off with a Cockney seaman only to return ten years later without a husband but with a child by the name of Billy in tow, one that he was now obliged to employ.

Arnold Makepiece cringed as his nephew scrubbed his nose along the length of his sleeve. "Blimey uncle Arnie, wud you cop a look at tha'!" Billy had somehow managed to blend his Cockney accent with a New York twang. Arnold shuddered. The three of them now stood in front of an enormous double-fronted cupboard with an array of items such as they had never see before in one place. Dempsey was scratching his balding head in amazement as he tried to decide what form of packing would be most appropriate for the collection of implements. "Wot the bloody 'ell do they do with 'ese?"

"I'd be very careful with those if I were you," came a quiet and rather cultured voice from behind them. They turned around to see a mild-mannered man in a wheelchair. "That ..." He pointed to the cupboard behind them. "... is Detective Taylor's personal collection." Dr Giles was pleased to see the young man's eyes go round. "He's very particular about it. He knows how to use every one of those weapons." He spoke slowly and deliberately. Giles' eyes twinkled as the young man turned around to look at the shining array of lethal-looking objects neatly labelled and organized on the shelves. Billy swallowed. "He's a true master." Billy turned back to look at him. Dr Giles smiled. "Pack them carefully now. I wouldn't like to be the one to tell him they had been damaged." Billy went as white as a sheet.

Giles skilfully swivelled his chair around and headed down the corridor where Stella and Aiden were stood comparing lists of items to be packed. They had overhead everything. Stella grinned. "Dr Giles, you are a very wicked man."

Leonard Giles smile widened. "Nonsense, my dear Stella. Never hurts to keep them on their toes. Besides that young idiot dropped a whole load of test-tubes. Speaking of which would you put this purchase order for replacements on Mac's desk for me?" Stella smiled and nodded. "Well, I'll be off and leave you to it." He called back over his shoulder, "And keep an eye on them. Heaven forbid that Mac gets one of his precious toys damaged."

The two women grinned at one another. "Oh, Mac is not going to be happy when you drop another one of those on his desk." Aiden nodded at the purchase order. "He was already giving us a hard time about us wanting to replace the tables in trace with new light tables then Danny told him we needed to upgrade the map analysis and coordinate software. I'm tellin' ya Stella. This move is playing hell with his budget."

Stella sighed. "Believe me. I know."

Aiden nodded in understanding. "Did he even go home last night?" Stella shook her head. "He missed lunch … again!" Stella gave a helpless shrug. That wasn't new.

"I'll go drop this off in his office and then I'll join you for the baby shower." She headed to Mac's office waving goodbye to Danny as he headed out.

"If you're lookin' for Mac, he went off with Flack about forty minutes ago. They were both packing." Danny called to Stella as he spotted Hawkes lurking in the doorway. "So Doc you ready for a beer, leave the girls to their baby thing?" Sheldon nodded enthusiastically and they both headed out the door as quickly as possible. Stella shook her head. _Men!_

She duly found Mac's office empty when she arrived. She popped her own folder in the empty 'Cases' tray and Dr Giles' purchase order on top of the other pile. She sighed as she looked at the stack of papers. Then taking pity on him she grabbed it and sat down at his desk. She quickly sorted the pile into things she could handle and things that required his signature. She filled out as much of the various forms as she could and then arranged them neatly into three folders with instructions on the front of each. As she whittled down the pile of assorted forms she came across her own purchase request that had been stuffed at the bottom. She sighed as she looked at it. Clearly this did not come very high on his list of priorities despite it being at the top of the list of staff complaints and the number one topic of conversation in the women's locker room.

Movement outside Mac's office caught her eye. One of the removal's people, a thin stick of a man with a balding head, was taping a sheet of paper to the door of the trace lab. Curious, she went to read it. "Pack tomorrow. Do not unplug. Stay out." Through the door she could see one of the machines churning away running Danny's search.

Her phone rang. Incoming caller ID said it was Flack. "What'cha got Flack?" she asked.

"We got him." Don sounded very smug. "Terry Wolte's your man. Found the car with the bullet hole. They were trying to repair it when we arrived. Found the gun too. I'm going to central booking with Wolte. Mac's on his way back to the lab with the evidence. He asked me to ask you to get someone down here to collect the car." There was something in his tone of voice that made Stella ask if they were okay. "Oh yeah, we're fine." Don sniggered.

Stella rolled her eyes, "What happened?"

"Oh let's just say that Mac had a little run in with Wolte and garages in Queens aren't the cleanest of places. I reckon our Taylor's going to need his tailor 'cos that suit is never going to be the same again." He hung up with a chuckle. Stella groaned. That was all she needed. Stella could imagine that Mac's mood wouldn't have improved as a result of that afternoon's work but at least it sounded like they had closed the case so other than processing the evidence they could devote the rest of the weekend to getting the lab moved to the new building. As she looked down at her phone to make the call to pick up the car she remembered that she was still holding her purchase order in her hand. She suddenly had an idea. She thought back to what Dr Giles had said then she looked at the paper stuck to the door. The office was emptying. It would take him at least twenty minutes to get back, another twenty minutes to tag and secure the evidence. If she timed it right she might just get her purchase request to the top of the pile. "After all I did you give you one last chance," she whispered to herself with an evil grin. She hurried back to Mac's office.

.

Despite outward appearances Mac Taylor was a happy man. He had made his way directly to the evidence locker and checked in his evidence. Flack had called to say that he had booked their suspect. He'd had a message to say that a team was on it's way to pick up the car and he had got back to his office to discover that some guardian angel had left him a steaming hot coffee and had sorted the administrative disaster-area that was his in-tray into three neat piles, one of which was red and marked. "Signature required – urgent." He flipped open the cover and saw a newly filled out form from Dr Giles requesting test tubes. The reason stated. "Office move breakage." Mac huffed and let it fall closed again. He glanced at he other two but his guardian angel had indicated that they could be left till Monday. He thought about tackling the red file and his report but there was one thing he needed to do first.

As he headed towards the locker rooms he passed by the trace lab. He paused to read the notice on the door and though he was tempted to go in and check on Danny's search results, he knew he was in no fit state to go looking around the lab. He couldn't risk contaminating evidence. He glanced in the door opposite. A young man was kneeling on the floor assiduously wrapping a very large knife with a curved blade while a second older thinner man was packing something heavy into a metal trunk. They both looked up. Mac was somewhat surprised to see the young man blanch. He looked down at the knife and back towards him. "Almost done Sir," he blustered. "Everything's fine. We'z look'd after it careful like you sed! Ain't we Demps?" The other nodded nervously glaring at Mac with big round eyes. Mac gave them a curt nod. Strange, he thought as he continued on his way down the corridor.

As he reached the other end he heard sounds of laughter and a lot of oo's and ah's. _The Baby Shower._ Once again he thanked his lucky stars that he had a guardian angel looking after that kind of thing too. He really must remember to sign her purchase order. She was right. It wasn't too much to ask for really and he had put it off for months. As he stepped into the locker room he caught sight of himself in a mirror. No wonder the removal's guys had looked at him strangely. He'd already pulled off his oil-covered jacket and left it in a ball in the foot-well of the Avalanche. His tie was askew and hanging loosely around his neck. His hair was a mess. His pants and shirt were stained with oil and grease, and there was a long rip in one sleeve. He'd caught his cheek-bone on an old oil drum as he'd tackled Wolte to the floor leaving his face streaked with blood and rust.

He made for his locker pulling off his tie. He caught a whiff of his shirt and grimaced as the strong chemical smell made him gag. He pulled it off and screwed it up and pushed it in a bin. He strongly suspected that his suit was going to follow it. He hardly dared take it to his favourite dry-cleaners. He'd known the owner Elsie for years and she was a darling but every time he took in one of his suits, she always left him feeling like a naughty schoolboy who'd tried using an ink pen for target practice.

Fortunately Mac always kept spare clothes in his locker. However, he had already used the spare suit so he pulled out a pair of jogging shoes and black track pants and tee-shirt and laid them on the bench. He placed his dress shoes in the locker. He'd have to take them home to clean. He stuffed his socks in too. He put his gun and his shield, his wallet, watch and phone in the locker and closed the door. He crossed over to the two doors set opposite one another in a recess on the other side of the room and paused in front of the door to the men's showers. The notice read. "Closed for office move. Please use showers opposite." Mac tipped his head on one side thinking it was strange. What was there to move in a shower room? Too tired to think about it he decided it wouldn't really matter. There was virtually no one left in the lab anyway and no one would be wanting to use the showers at this time of night. He went into the women's, placed his clean clothes on the bench by the door relieved to see that there were still a couple of clean towels folded on the shelf. He dropped his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor and he stepped into the cubicle and switched on the water.

As opposed to his usual five minute morning shower, he stood luxuriating under the water washing away the events of the afternoon. He turned up the temperature letting the clouds of steam to envelope him. Head bowed under the stream of water he allowed it to pummel his back and shoulders easing away the stresses of the previous week. He reached for the shower soap and winced as some got in the cut on his cheek and the large graze on the back of his arm that he had only just noticed he'd acquired. He shampooed his hair, once then a second time as he realized that he had oil in his hair too. He switched off the shower and reached out for a towel. Just as he did so he heard the creak of the locker room door open and voices. Grabbing the towel he ducked back into the cubicle and waited.

"Night all."

"Night Jane and thank you." There were sounds of banging as lockers opened and closed and the door creaked once more.

"Bye Kirsty. Good luck."

"Thank you." The door creaked again.

"Come on I'll give you a hand with that ..." This from Aiden. Mac recognized her voice.

"I'll get that." Stella.

"Thanks Stella and thanks so much for organizing everything. It's really kind and please thank Mac and the others too. The gifts are wonderful." There was a creak and the voices faded. Another creak and all went silent. Mac dried himself slowly and quietly and waited. He listened carefully and then stuck his head out of the cubicle. He wrapped the towel around his waist but discovered it was soaking wet. He held it up. It was rather well used. In fact it was almost possible to see through the material. He tossed it over his left shoulder and reached for another dry one to wrap around his waist and he stepped out of the cubicle. He blinked, frowning to himself. He was sure that he had put his clean clothes on the bench but it had been a long week. He must have left them in the locker room so he scooped up the dirty ones, rolled them into a ball and pulled open the door between the showers and the locker-room and stepped out.

He froze. There were only three options in these kind of situations. _Flight, fight or surrender._

Stella was perched on a bench with her hands neatly folded on the even more neatly folded pile of clothes on her lap. She wasn't exactly smiling but she had that look on her face, one that Mac knew well. He'd been had. There was no denying it. The notice on the door, the two towels on the shelf, the bench by the door whereas in the men's it was by the far wall.

There was only one option open to him. He waited for her to make the first move. She purposely let her eyes travel down. Mac didn't need to know what she was looking at. He knew but he looked down anyway. He was painfully aware that the small scrap of material around his waist that barely reached his knees looked even more grey in the harsh fluorescent lights of the locker room. He knew that she was looking at the large ragged hole that sat two inches above his right knee. Mac had to admit that she did have a point. He looked up, a hint of red on his cheeks.

"How did you know I'd even be taking a shower now?"

Stella's eyebrows rose in surprise. "A messy take-down in Queens. Twenty minutes to get back, twenty minutes to secure your evidence, five minutes to decide whether or not to write your report, two minutes to a sneak peek at the red folder, two minutes to take a few sips of coffee, two minutes to check that Danny's search results hadn't..."

Mac grimaced. "Okay, okay … point taken. You know me too well."

"And don't you forget it." Stella smiled and carefully placed his clothes on the bench. She strolled over to him and reached behind him to his left. She was so close that her hair tickled his shoulder and he could smell the delicate scent of her perfume. With a deft movement of her hand, she ripped the sign off the men's shower room door crumpling it into a ball. With an elegant flick she tossed it into the bin where it landed on top of his ruined shirt. He raised his eyes to meet hers. He could see the triumph in them. Yes he'd definitely been had. There was no denying it. There was only one option open to him.

_Surrender_.

"New towels."

Stella smiled and nodded. "Big ones Mac." She glanced down again and arched an eyebrow at the strip of bare thigh where the edges of the towel didn't quite meet. Mac suppressed a smile.

"I get it. Size matters."

Stella patted his cheek like she was praising a small child and headed towards the door, scooping up her purse. She turned to look at him. "If you hurry up and if you're a very good boy I'll bring you a treat." It was Mac's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Señor Chow's spicy orange chicken. My place. One hour."

Mac grinned. One hour. That should be just enough time to write up his report and complete Stella's purchase order … and make sure those guys had packed his cupboard properly.


End file.
